


Empath!Neal Verse

by mithrel



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blanket Permission, Empathy, Established Relationship, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:52:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is an empath and hasn’t told anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Moment of Truth in Your Lies

Neal realizes early that he can sense other people’s emotions. He learns to shield in self-defense: he doesn’t want to feel his mother’s worry, his classmates’ chaotic mélange, his teacher’s contempt.

It’s only later, after he’s run away, that he realizes the ability is an asset. He learns to read people, lowering his shields just enough to be able to feel their emotions and respond to them. Once, when he’s nearly caught, he panics and shunts the mark’s suspicion away from him. He’s not sure how he does it, but he manages to change the mark’s emotions enough to get out of there, get away.

Maybe he leans on his ability too much. Anyway, he gets sloppy, gets the FBI after him. He gets more and more curious about this Peter Burke, wondering what he’s like. Maybe that’s another reason he finally gets caught. When Neal does finally meet him, all he gets from him is overwhelming satisfaction at a job well-done.

He’s in prison after that, but he still has Kate. When she breaks it off, he loses his one constant, the one bulwark he can cling to, and all he can think of is to get it back.

Peter finds him again; he’s not even trying to run. He doesn’t know why he urges Peter to let him out on an anklet–without Kate, without the con, his life doesn’t have meaning anymore.

He finds meaning though. The anklet is annoying, and he’s still searching for Kate, but working with Peter has its rewards.

Not that he fools himself about their relationship. Peter’s his keeper, nothing more.

He keeps his shields up, especially when he’s at work. But he occasionally has to let them down when he’s working, and some of Peter’s feelings slip through.

At first it’s the expected suspicion and wariness. But as time goes on, it shifts to something like grudging respect, then tentative friendship. Their relationship changes too. Neal finds himself bantering with Peter, letting him in more than he has anyone else.

It’s even harder keeping his shields up around Elizabeth. The first time he met her, he didn’t get the expected cold-shoulder for taking her husband away from her, or the suspicion most people who know his history feel about him.

Instead what he got was…acceptance. Pure and simple, despite what he’s done and what he might do. It would seem foolish, since he’s done nothing to earn that faith, but instead he finds himself wanting to live up to it.

He forces himself to stay shielded unless he’s working, despite the increasing craving he feels for Peter and Elizabeth’s emotions. He contents himself with half a loaf, the friendship between him and Peter, and him and Elizabeth. He doesn’t want to risk manipulating their emotions by accident.

He’s never told anyone about his–empathy, he supposes–not even Mozzie. Whenever he finds himself tempted to tell Peter or Elizabeth, he reminds himself how they’re sure to react. Betrayal, suspicion, anger.

Half a loaf.

Things would have gone on like that, except he was caught and drugged when he went looking for the files at Hearts Wide Open. When Peter finds him, his shields are gone. He’s wide open and raw.

So when he feels Peter’s emotions, stronger than he ever has before, he can’t help but respond. There’s exasperation there, and anger, but they’re eclipsed by concern and the need to help.

The emptiness rears up and takes over, even while he’s babbling, and he projects it onto Peter. He doesn’t mean to, would never have done it if he was in his right mind, but his shields are destroyed, his control is shattered.

He feels Peter’s confusion at the foreign emotions, feels him try to push them away, his panic at being unable to. Somehow he manages to damp them down so Peter can get past them and get them out, but he knows the damage is done.

***

It takes awhile for the drug to wear off, longer for him to have his shields working the way they should. Part of him is glad Peter doesn’t stay with him, leaving him with June instead, but part of him grieves the loss he knows will be worse because he has to see Peter every day and know he drove him away.

When his shields are functioning again he reluctantly goes in to see Peter. He’s fidgeting with things on his desk, but looks up when Neal enters.

“Peter, about earlier…thank you.”

Peter explodes. “What the hell did you think you were doing, Neal? I requested the financials–”

“Which they were shredding when I went in there,” Neal broke in, glad to talk about the case and not what he came in to say.

“You can’t just go around the law like that! If you were caught–”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” His shields have dropped slightly; he can’t help it–it’s become reflex around Peter. Now he can tell that Peter’s not actually concentrating on the lecture. He’s wondering what the hell happened in the clinic and if he’s in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

“You’re not crazy,” Neal murmurs over Peter’s continued scolding.

It brings him up short. “What?”

“Those…emotions you felt, in the clinic…they were mine.”

“What are you talking about?” And there it is, just as expected. Suspicion, confusion. It twists something inside him.

“I’m an empath.”

“A _what?_ You’ve been watching too much sci-fi.”

“No, it’s true. I can sense other people’s emotions, make them feel mine.”

Peter stares at him flatly. “I don’t believe it.”

“I’ll prove it,” Neal says, knowing that by doing this he’s hitting the fracture-line of their friendship with a hammer. “Happiness. Anger. Excitement. Sadness.” With each word he carefully manufactures that emotion and pushes it at Peter.

His mouth drops open slightly. “You’re serious.”

Neal nods, lips tight, waiting for it to sink in.

“You _manipulated_ my emotions!”

“Peter, no, I would never–”

“You _did!_ In the clinic!”

“Only because I was drugged! It destroyed my shields!”

“Your ‘shields.’” Peter repeats.

“Under normal circumstances I shield, so I can’t feel other people’s emotions and they can’t feel mine. But the drugs–”

Peter cuts him off. “From now on, you are going to keep these ‘shields’ up, as hard as you can, all the time, understand me?”

Neal opens his mouth to protest that it’s impossible, looks at Peter’s face, and nods instead.

“And if you _ever_ manipulate my emotions again, or anyone in this office, or _anyone_ you know–”

“I won’t, Peter,” Neal says, not even bothering to be indignant anymore.

“Promise me!”

Neal sighs. “I promise.”


	2. Just to Know You're Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shielding all the time takes its toll on Neal.

Neal keeps his shields up at full strength except when he’s by himself. It’s hard, being alone in his head. Not to mention exhausting keeping that level of control. Normally his shields fluctuate slightly as he adjusts them depending on the situation. Now they’re adamantine-firm almost all the time.

Every night he collapses into bed, and every morning he wakes up just as tired. He doesn’t even unshield to work, which is fine, there are ordinary ways to read people, but he’s gotten used to that extra edge, and it affects him, maybe not enough that anyone else would notice, but he does.

It’s hardest around Peter. He doesn’t need his shields down to recognize the changes in his behavior. There’s no banter, no joking, just business all the time. He doesn’t spend more time with Neal than absolutely necessary, and acts like he’s got some contagious disease.

With no outside emotions to counter it, and Peter pulling away from him, the isolation eats at him more than ever.

So he does something stupid. Under the guise of dropping off a file, he goes to Peter’s house, with some vague idea of talking to him about this.

El opens the door. “Neal, come on in.”

“Hi, Elizabeth. Is Peter here?”

She purses her lips. “Mm, not right now. You want something? Coffee, water?”

“No, that’s OK, I just wanted to give this to him,” he waves the file to illustrate.

She nods. “Put it on the table.”

He sets the file down and looks around, ill-at-ease.

Elizabeth sits down on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. “Have a seat.”

“I…should go,” Neal says, turning toward the door. 

“Don’t be silly, sit down. I haven’t seen you for awhile.”

So, reluctantly, he sits next to her.

“Is anything wrong, Neal? You seem upset.”

“What? No, nothing’s wrong. I just found something I didn’t know I needed and then lost it again,” he continues under his breath.

“Is it Kate?”

Neal blinks. “What? No, this has nothing to do with Kate.”

Elizabeth doesn’t press him, just reaches over and envelops him in a hug.

And he’s almost undone right there, because with the contact he can feel her worry, her concern, even through full shields.

He’s so tempted to just melt into it, but this is contrary to the spirit of his promise to Peter if not the letter, so he pulls away. “I need to go.”

“Neal?”

“Goodbye, Elizabeth.”

***

The next day Peter calls him into the conference room. “So I hear you stopped by last night.”

Neal needs all his experience not to shift from foot to foot. “Yeah. I wanted to drop off that file–”

“El tells me you were upset.”

“Upset? No, I was just tired.” And where has his glibness gone, if he can’t think of a better excuse than that?

“Bullshit.”

Neal raises an eyebrow at that. “Excuse me?”

“You’re jumpy, you’re frazzled and you look like warmed-over death. What’s the problem?”

“It’s nothing.”

Peter scrubs a hand over his face. “Neal, this is affecting your work. Whatever it is–”

“So that’s all you care about?” Neal cuts him off bitterly, “That I’m not on my A-game anymore?”

“Wha– No, dammit, that’s not all I care about! You’re my friend, Neal.”

“Could have fooled me.” Maybe Peter’s right, maybe this is affecting him more than he realized, since he hadn’t meant to say that.

Peter winces slightly, but doesn’t deny it. “So what’s the problem?”

Neal sighs. “It’s my shields.”

“What about them?” Peter taps his fingers on the table nervously.

“Peter, I’ve never had to shield this hard for this long before…it’s–” he tries to think of a metaphor Peter will understand, “It’s like running up stairs with forty-pound sandbags on your back. You might be able to do it at first, but sooner or later–” His voice is ragged with the strain. “Peter, please let me drop my shields. I don’t manipulate emotions unless someone’s going to get hurt, and I would _never_ mess with yours.”

There’s a pause as Peter chews his lip, then he says, “OK.”

With an exhausted sigh, Neal lets his shields drop. He’s not thinking of anything but ending the strain he’s been under, but Peter’s emotions are suddenly _there._ And even if the concern is mixed with nervousness and uncertainty, feeling someone else’s emotions again, feeling _Peter’s_ emotions again, after a week alone in the echoing space of his own head, is enough to make him close his eyes and groan.

“You look like an addict who’s just shot up.”

His eyes fly open at the dry remark. “Peter, I’m not–” He claps his mouth shut before he says something he’ll regret.

Peter stares at him. “It was a joke.”

Neal sits there, waiting for what he knows is coming next.

“Neal.”

And there it is, a tacit prompting for more information, and he knows he has to give it.

“Can you imagine what it’s like to feel other people’s emotions?”

“I’d think it’d be an asset.”

Neal snorts. “Come on, Peter, you know people.”

He grimaces. “Point.”

“I _had_ to learn to shield, to keep out all the crap people were throwing at me. And–” Neal pauses, uncertain whether to bring up what started all this. “Do you remember what you felt of my emotions?”

Peter winces again. “Yeah.”

“That comes from only having people in my life that either hate me or think I’m beneath their notice.”

Peter opens his mouth to object, but Neal overrides him. “Even when I became a successful con, people saw me as an asset or a legend, not a person.”

“Mozzie and Alex–”

“Are my friends, yeah, but how would they react if they knew the truth?” _How did you react?_

“I’d like to think they’d eventually accept it,” Peter says slowly, then, “You don’t really have anyone you can count on, do you?”

“Just you. And Elizabeth.” He vaguely remembers babbling something to that effect while under the influence of the drug. It’s true. Mozzie always looks at the big picture, and if something Neal asked him put him in danger of being caught, he’s not sure what he’d do.

“So that’s why the–” Peter waves a hand, not sure how to describe it.

Neal sighs. “Yeah.”

Peter looks like he wants to do something, like maybe hug him, but he doesn’t. Neal’s glad. He doesn’t want pity.

But the suspicion and nervousness are gone from Peter now, and as Neal sits there he gets a focused burst of–he’s not sure what it is. A mixture of friendship, apology and don’t-you-ever-feel-that-way-again. He can’t help smiling.

“Elizabeth doesn’t know,” Peter says suddenly.

Neal sucks in air through his teeth. “I should tell her.”

“You need moral support?”

Neal shakes his head. “No, this is something I need to do on my own.”

***

He shows up at the Burke house that evening. Elizabeth answers the door. “Neal. Peter’s not here right now.”

He knows that. “Actually, Elizabeth, I came here to see you.”

“Are you OK? You left so suddenly–”

“Yeah, and I’m sorry about that.”

He sits down on the couch again and takes the coffee she offers him, trying to figure out how to present this.

“Did you ever hear of empathy?”

“Yeah, it’s being able to put yourself in another person’s place, know how they’d feel.”

“That’s one definition.”

Elizabeth looks at him curiously, so he continues. “I’m…a literal empath. I can feel other people’s emotions, make them feel mine.”

“You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“How long have you–”

“Since I was a kid. Usually I shield to keep other people’s emotions from overwhelming me.”

Elizabeth puts down her coffee cup and leans back in her chair. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You needed to know.”

“Does Peter know?”

“Yes, actually. He found out about it after I was drugged–he did tell you about that, right?”

She nods. “At Hearts Wide Open.”

Neal nods too. “Well, the drug destroyed my shields and I–well, threw my emotions at him.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah. After that he made me promise to keep my shields up and not manipulate–”

“Wait a minute, he made you _promise?_ ” Elizabeth repeats indignantly. “Is this why you were upset yesterday?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ll talk to him–”

“No, it’s OK, we worked things out. But it didn’t feel right, you not knowing.”

She pauses a second. “Have you told anyone else?”

“No. I wouldn’t even have told Peter if it weren’t for that damned drug.”

“Mozzie and June–”

He shakes his head. “Not even Kate.”

“So why’d you leave so suddenly?”

“I was shielding, as hard as I could, had been for days…”

“That must have been rough.”

Neal nods fervently. “But when you hugged me, you cut through my shields.”

“Physical contact does that?”

“It can. You and Peter–you’re the only ones who really accept me for who I am, completely. You can imagine I haven’t had a lot of positive relationships.”

Elizabeth nods.

“When you hugged me, after I’d been shielding so long…it was too much to handle. I had to leave before I got lost in it.”

“Are you shielding now?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t.”

As soon as he’s dropped his shields, Elizabeth hugs him again. He freezes for a moment, trying instinctively to draw away. She just holds on tighter.

So he gives up, relaxes into her hold and her emotions, his shoulders shaking.

It’s a long time before he finally pulls away and blinks his eyes clear. She hands him a tissue from a box on the coffee table.

***

Things are easier after that. He unshields when he’s alone with Peter, unless he tells him not to. Neal respects his privacy, knowing Peter won’t shut him out again.

Elizabeth tells him not to bother with shields at all.

Slowly the ragged wound in his emotions is being knitted up and scabbing over. He figures pretty soon it will be completely healed and the ever-present loneliness will be just a memory.

He’s still taken off-guard when Elizabeth steps up to him one day when he comes in the door and kisses him.

He panics and pushes her away, because Peter’s _right there,_ but he’s not reacting, so when Elizabeth rolls her eyes and kisses him again he relaxes into it, then tentatively kisses back.

It’s more of a surprise when Peter kisses him, but the sense of _Mine!_ running through him is so very Peter that he feels the amusement bubbling up, realizes he’s letting Peter share it.

Peter’s hands clench on his shoulders, but this isn’t like before. There’s nothing forced about it, nothing involuntary, just a quiet offering of emotion to be felt, and he quickly relaxes.

When Peter pulls away, Neal looks from him to El. “How long have you two been planning this?”

“Not long,” Elizabeth says.

“It was El’s idea!” Peter says, but snaps his mouth closed at the _bullshit_ look she gives him.

“We want you to be happy, Neal.”

“I am,” he says, and realizes that, for the first time in a long time, it’s the truth.


End file.
